


I'd Like To Kiss You (Who Knew?)

by AeroplanesR0ck



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Come Marking, M/M, Oral Sex, Virgin Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-04-14 12:36:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14136180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeroplanesR0ck/pseuds/AeroplanesR0ck
Summary: John Watson, as we know, is abnormally attracted to dangerous situations and people. And who could be more dangerous than Mycroft Holmes?Fill forthis prompton Dreamwidth





	1. John Meets Mycroft

**Author's Note:**

> This is a new pairing for me! But I think it works pretty well. Rating may change.

John Watson was, by reputation and by his own only slightly shamefaced admission, an incorrigible flirt. He was also unusually attracted to powerful, dangerous people. There was his brief, illicit affair with Major Sholto in Afghanistan. There was the pass he made at the pretty redheaded woman while she was in the process of kidnapping him. Then there was Mycroft Holmes.

‘You don’t seem very frightening.’ John had said when they first met. That was a bald-faced lie. Which wasn’t to say he was frightened. Thrilled, perhaps, would be a better word; thrilled, excited, and a tiny bit aroused. His eyes danced as he verbally sparred with the mysterious man, thoroughly enjoying himself even in the midst of his genuine outrage at his having stolen John’s therapist’s notes. He was really, just a little tempted to take up the man’s offer. Not for the money, though he did need that, but just so he’d get to see this gorgeously dangerous man again. In the end, common decency won out. He wasn’t going to sell out his new flatmate to a powerful stranger just for the chance at getting a leg over with said powerful stranger. Still, that didn’t stop John from watching him as he strode away, eyes roaming over his tall, straight-backed figure and admiring his confident gait. When he was gone, John took a breath, collected himself, then turned around, getting back into the car.

*****

“I met a friend of yours.” John said to Sherlock later at dinner.

Sherlock blinked, only half-listening as he peered out the window. “A friend?” He murmured distractedly. 

“Well. An enemy. Arch-enemy, he said.” John amended. 

“Did he offer you money to spy on me?” Sherlock said, glancing at John.

“Yes.” 

Sherlock’s gaze sharpened. “Did you take it?”

“No.”

The pressure of Sherlock’s stare lessened, and he resumed looking out the window. “Pity. We could have split the fee. Think it through, next time.”

“But who is he?” John pressed.

“The most dangerous man you’ve ever met.” Sherlock murmured.

John shifted at the memory, arousal trickling down his spine. “Yeah.” He breathed. “I got that, actually.” 

Sherlock’s head snapped around as he gave John a horrified look. “Oh, for god’s sake.” He gritted his teeth, turning back to the window and looking even more intently out at the rain-slick road. “That cab. It’s stopped.” Grateful for the distraction, he hopped up and dashed out of the restaurant, John hot on his heels.


	2. He's Your Brother?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finds out a little more about the mystery man.

John spotted him as soon as he turned around. He stood still and silent, his assistant beside him, a tall dark figure in sharp contrast to the bustle and flashing lights of the crime scene.

“Sherlock.” He murmured. “That’s him. Your ‘arch-enemy’.”

Sherlock glanced over and sighed. “Might as well get this over with.” He muttered, striding over. “Mycroft. What are you doing here?”

“As ever, I’m concerned about you.” Mycroft said, glancing up at the crime scene. “And for good reason. Quite fortunate about that shooter, isn’t it, little brother?” He directed a smirk at John.

John glanced between the two of them. “Wait. That’s your _brother_?”

“Of course he is.” Sherlock bit out. “Who but an older brother could be so damnably overbearing?”

“You wound me, Sherlock.” Mycroft said, looking completely unperturbed.

“Well.” John murmured, smiling up at Mycroft. It seemed that he would be seeing more of him after all. “Are you here to give us a ride home?”

Mycroft opened his mouth, but Sherlock cut in before he could speak. “Nope. We haven’t had dinner yet, and there’s no food in the flat. Come on. There’s a good Chinese place nearby that’s open until two.”

John lifted an eyebrow at Mycroft. “You could join us.” He offered.

“No he can’t.” Sherlock said sharply. 

Mycroft smiled blandly. The best response to Sherlock’s needling was usually none at all. “That’s very kind of you Doctor Watson, but I’m afraid I have to be getting back. Have a good evening.” He slid back into the car, his assistant getting in after him. John sighed, disappointed but not surprised, and turned to follow after Sherlock.

“You’re not allowed to seduce my brother.” Sherlock said, not looking at him.

“That’s not really for you to decide.” John replied.

“I’ll have Mrs Hudson evict you.” Sherlock threatened.

John stuck his hands in his pockets, grinning. “No you won’t.” He said cheerfully.

*****

Contrary to Sherlock’s accusations of his being ‘overbearing’, Mycroft didn’t turn up or make contact, as far as John knew, until two months later, when he received a text from an unknown number.

_You don’t strike me as the sort to engage in vandalism, Dr. Watson. MH_

_This is Mycroft, right? JW_

_The ASBO was Sherlock’s fault. JW_

_Naturally. I’ve had the ASBO cleaned from your records. It hardly seems fair for you to take the fall from my brother’s misconduct. MH

Thanks a lot. I owe you one. JW

So...what is it you do exactly? JW

Not this time. It is after all my brother’s fault you received the ASBO at all. MH_

_I occupy a minor position in the British government. MH_

_Mmhmm. Minor position. Like, say, a traffic warden? JW_

_Perhaps a little less minor than that. MH

Thought so. Thanks again, Mycroft. JW

It’s no trouble, Dr. Watson. MH_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to end it before the Blind Banker bit, to be honest, but then it would have been really short. Got to get back into the swing of writing.


	3. Having a Blast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's an explosion at Baker Street, and everyone's home.

John stared at the head in the fridge. It didn’t quite stare back, eyes gazing unfocussed somewhere over John’s left shoulder. John pinched the bridge of his nose, and shut the fridge door. “Think we’re going to have to order in.” He called over his shoulder to Sherlock, who was reclining on the sofa. 

Sherlock hopped to his feet. “Let’s go out.” He proposed. “Staying in is unutterably boring, and I rather fancy a-”

The rest of his sentence was lost in the deafening blast of an explosion. John dropped to the floor as the windows shattered, Sherlock following a split second later. 

When all had been quiet for a while, Sherlock shifted and groaned, sitting back on his heels. John got up, looking over at Sherlock. “Christ, you aren’t wearing any shoes.” He muttered. “Stay right there, I’ll get them.” He retrieved Sherlock’s shoes, letting him Sherlock brace against him as he put them on. “You all right?” He asked, brow furrowed in concern.

“Just fine.” Sherlock hopped to his feet, looking excited. “Looks like this evening might not be a complete waste of my time after all.”

“It’s probably just a gas leak.” John warned. Though, of course, perhaps it wasn’t. Sherlock was rather a trouble magnet. John could hear sirens in the distance already. There was nothing like the words ‘Baker Street’ for galvanising the police to action. “Shit.” John said, realising something. “Mrs Hudson. She was just downstairs.”

The two of them ran down the stairs, Sherlock bursting into Mrs Hudson’s kitchen. “Mrs Hudson!” He shouted, scanning the room. 

“I’m right here, dearie, not to worry.” She said, emerging from her bedroom. “I was just about to come up.”

“Mrs Hudson. Are you all right?” John said worriedly. 

“Just fine, dear. I wasn’t near the window. Gave me a terrible fright, though.”

The sirens were louder now, and a car door slammed outside, quick, light footsteps sounding before Lestrade entered the kitchen.

“What the hell did you do, Sherlock?” He asked, sounded exasperated.

Sherlock whirled around, a deeply offended look on his face. “Why do you assume it was my fault?”

Lestrade raised an eyebrow. “I note you’re not saying it wasn’t your fault.”

“It was not my fault.” Sherlock bit out.

Lestrade sighed. “Yeah, okay, fine. Well, I think you lot are going to have to find somewhere to stay tonight. We’ll be cordoning off the street, you can probably come back tomorrow or the day after. Get a hotel or something, yeah?”

The ubiquitous tap-tap of Mycroft’s umbrella preceded his entrance into the increasingly cramped kitchen. “Not to worry, Detective Inspector, accommodations shall be arranged.”

“No.” Sherlock said loudly. “We are not staying with you.”

“Sherlock.” John murmured. “It would save us quite a bit.” 

“Oh, come off it, you just think staying with Mycroft will get you a step closer to getting his trousers off.” Sherlock retorted.

John cleared his throat, cheeks reddening as he glanced at Mycroft, who politely pretended to have heard nothing. 

“Well. Thanks a lot, Mycroft. If you’ve got the space to put us up, that’d be really great.” John said, calmly as he could.

Mycroft inclined his head slightly. “I’ve got a car ready.” The redheaded assistant appeared silently behind him, an overnight bag slung over one arm. John lifted an eyebrow at a scowling Sherlock.

“Fine.” He muttered, stalking past Mycroft out to the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much John and Mycroft interaction in this one, but I had to set the scene for the next chapter, and establish a few changes. No, John does not date Sarah in this fic.


	4. Wake Me Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has a nightmare. Luckily Mycroft is there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this fic on an impulse, so I really hope I'll have the inspiration to see it through. I know the ending perfectly, it's just getting there that's hard.

“I do have something I’d like you to take a look at, before you go to bed.” Mycroft said, once Mrs Hudson had been settled. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. Everything’s a bloody exchange with you-”

“Sherlock.” John murmured placatingly. He glanced up at Mycroft. “Perhaps this could wait until morning?” He suggested, trying to find a compromise. 

Mycroft inclined his head. “I’ll leave the file here. Do take a look at it, Sherlock.” He left them, disappearing into his bedroom. 

Mycroft had an impressively spacious house, with guest bedrooms to spare. Mrs Hudson had been put up in the bedroom nearest the door so she could get back to sleep right away, and Sherlock immediately claimed the next furthest bedroom from Mycroft. That left John in the bedroom adjacent to Mycroft’s. It was sparsely decorated, the only furniture besides the bed and bedside being a tall closet and a desk, upon which there was a small selection of books. Not feeling sleepy yet, John picked one at random, flipping through it. He had to admit, ‘Just and Unjust Wars’ by Michael Walzer was fairly interesting, if not his usual read, but after a few chapters he put it to one side, turning out the light.

Some hours later, John jerked awake, blinking in the bright light from the ceiling lamp. His heart was pounding, his skin covered in a film of sweat. He cursed under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face. He really should have expected a nightmare, after that explosion. Being in an unfamiliar place didn’t help either. He looked up, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a figure standing at his doorway. 

“Fuck! Mycroft. God, I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” John sat up and swung his legs over the   
side of the bed, grinding his toes into the plush carpet. 

“Not at all, Doctor Watson. I was finishing some work when I heard you shouting. I thought it best if I came to wake you. My apologies if I have overstepped.”

John shook his head. “Nope. No, it’s fine, you just...startled me. You can call me John, you know.”

“Very well, John.” 

Now that John had a chance to get a proper look at Mycroft, he looked nothing like his usual perfectly put-together self. He was wearing a set of soft-looking blue pyjamas, his hair slightly mussed. John suspected he may have been lying about having been awake. 

“Well, thanks for waking me, Mycroft. You can get back to sleep, or uh. Your work. D’you mind if I make myself a cuppa?” John was fairly certain he wasn’t about to get himself back to sleep anytime soon. 

“Not at all, John. I’ll join you, if you don’t mind. I could use a cup myself.” 

John nodded. “Yeah, ‘course. It is your kitchen, after all.” He gestured for Mycroft to lead the way.


	5. A Nighttime Flirtation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Mycroft have tea, and a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was quite a hiatus. It's been quite a year. And this chapter, for all its simplicity, was surprisingly daunting. I had no idea what these boys would say, when put in a room together in the middle of the night. I'm glad I got it out there. Now I'm so much closer to the good bit than I was before.

John’s toes curled against the cold tile floor as he fiddled with the handle of his mug, watching Mycroft sip delicately at his tea. Mycroft watched him in return, no doubt taking in minute details that John couldn’t even begin to fathom. 

“If you wish to discuss your nightmare, I am willing to listen.” Mycroft proffered carefully. 

John huffed out a breath, dropping his gaze to stare into his teacup. “Not much to say, frankly. War memories, the associated trauma.” He flashed Mycroft a wry smile. “I’m sure you know everything you need to from my therapist’s notes.”

Mycroft at least had the decency to appear somewhat apologetic. “I merely skimmed them, not that you told her much. I only read enough to be sure you didn’t pose a threat to Sherlock.”

“And given that I managed to move in with him, I suppose you’ve decided I’m not dangerous.” No doubt if Mycroft had decided otherwise, John would have quietly disappeared long ago. 

One of Mycroft’s eyebrows ticked upwards. “I didn’t say you aren’t dangerous. Only that you’re not a threat.” He said with a small smile. 

There was something about that smile that hinted at more. Ordinarily, John would have pounced on that opportunity, found a way to flirt back, test the waters. The nightmare had left him a little too shaken for that. Still, he did his best to throw out a line. 

“I’m a threat only to the ones you want me to be a threat to, you mean.” 

Mycroft drained the last of his tea. “Just so. You’re a useful man to have around.”

Now that he could work with. “Guess you’ll just have to keep me.” He said, managing to summon the energy for a flirtatious smirk. 

“Perhaps I will.” Mycroft rose gracefully to his feet, collecting John’s mug along with his own. “Don’t worry about the washing up. You should get back to sleep.” 

John, too tired to protest, muttered his thanks and shuffled off back to bed. Hopefully that deeply ambiguous possible flirtation didn’t keep him up too long.

*****

Given Sherlock’s apparent disinterest in Mycroft’s case of ‘national importance’, John took it upon himself to at least attempt some investigating. He had to admit, at least a small part of it was wanting to impress Mycroft. Of course, it didn’t take John long to hit a dead end, and of course, Sherlock had only been pretending to be disinterested, solving the case within hours of turning up at the crime scene, and of course, he then took the plans and gave them to a criminal mastermind. John had no idea why he even bothered.

After all that, when the dust has settled, everything moves on. Mycroft fades back into a vaguely omniscient presence. More and more, John starts to think he just imagined that hint of interest he’d thought Mycroft had shown. The suave, handsome genius could have anyone, after all. Why on earth would he have any interest in John? 

Then, nearly five months later, John finds himself having tea with Mycroft in the middle of Buckingham Palace.


	6. Buckingham

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things are exposed at Buckingham Palace. Later, Mycroft turns up at Baker Street.

Once Sherlock deigned to put his clothes on, John found himself in the unenviable position of being the most underdressed person in the room. He sipped at his tea and faded carefully into the background, letting the back and forth between the brothers dominate the conversation.

Mycroft had barely glanced at him since he arrived, and John wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed. John pushed it away. He shouldn’t care at all, he hadn’t spoken to Mycroft in months, and there was another case of national importance at hand- regarding, apparently, a dominatrix. 

“Don’t be alarmed, it has to do with sex.” Mycroft said, directing a smug smirk at Sherlock’s surprised expression.

Sherlock leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I don’t think I’m the one who finds sex alarming.” He said, cocking his head with a quirk of his eyebrow. 

John’s eyes darted to Mycroft’s face. It was blank as ever, but tellingly, he had no riposte to that. 

He had to ask about it, later in the cab back to Baker Street. “What did you mean, back there?”

“Hm?” Sherlock glanced absently over at him, mind already busily churning through the new case. “Mean by what?”

“You, implying that Mycroft finds sex alarming.”

Sherlock huffed. “Well, he does, obviously. He doesn’t trust anyone and he’s insecure about his flabby body. It’s a poor combination, adds up to the kind of man who spends all his free time in a club where it’s literally forbidden to speak to anyone.”

“That’s rather harsh.” John murmured. “I think he’s rather fit, actually.”

“Oh, do you still? I thought you would have been over it by now. Familiarity breeds contempt, isn’t that the saying?” Sherlock was visibly losing interest in the conversation, thoughts turning back to his newest case. 

“Not always.” John murmured, letting the subject drop, his own thoughts turning to fantasies of how he could convince Mycroft that he really was quite attractive, to the right person.

*****

A day later, blackmail dominatrix photographs unfound, John resigned himself to having Mycroft disappear from their lives for another couple of months until the next national crisis. To his surprise, it was only three weeks later when he came home to find Mycroft seated waiting in Sherlock’s chair.

“Hey. Um, Sherlock’s out. Back late, he said.” John said uncertainly. Surely Mycroft already knew that. He usually showed up with perfect timing. 

“I’m aware. I’m here for you.” There was something rather dangerous about the smile that Mycroft gave him, and it made John’s pulse quicken. Mycroft rose to his feet, stalking towards John. “Your interest in me has not, of course, escaped my notice.” He reached past John with his umbrella, using the handle to push the door closed behind John. “I’m not opposed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's happening! I rewatched A Scandal in Belgravia for this. I'm trying to power through this fic, because I feel like I've lost the spark for this one. I'm too much of a Johnlocker. I had to actively make Sherlock super dickish to prevent Johnlock from accidentally happening.


	7. A Holmesian Seduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft manoeuvres John into the bedroom.

John blinked, gaping. He had to be hallucinating. That was it. Sherlock had slipped him a hallucinogenic of some kind, and not he was vividly hallucinating a sexual fantasy about Mycroft in the middle of the living room. 

“I assure you I am quite real.” Hallucination Mycroft said. 

“I never said anything about you not being real.” John reasoned. “You must have read my mind, because you are _in_ my mind!”

“Or perhaps I am merely as proficient a deductive genius as my brother, if not more, and read it plain as day on your exceedingly expressive face.” 

Mycroft was quite close now, his voice soft and silky. John could smell him. God, he smelled amazing. This had to be real, there was no way John’s hallucinations would be this vivid. John’s eyes fluttered closed. 

“Yeah, okay.” He breathed, opening his eyes. “Would you like to, um, get dinner?”

“No.” Mycroft replied, soft but firm. He reached past John once more, leaning his umbrella against the wall. Then he stepped back out of John’s personal space, stripping his jacket. He turned away to hang it up. “I’d rather cut to the chase. Your bedroom is upstairs, I believe?” 

Mycroft threw a challenging look over his shoulder as he mounted the stairs to John’s room. John stared after him, blinking at the suddenness of it all. Then he grinned, thumping up the stairs after Mycroft. 

In the bedroom, Mycroft sat on the side of John’s bed, looking a little less certain than he had before. John cocked his head, making a couple of quick deductions. 

“You planned out what happened downstairs quite carefully, didn’t you?” He murmured, climbing onto the bed to straddle Mycroft’s lap, kneeling on either side of him so that he could look him in the eye. “I bet you had all my reactions mapped out. How long did you spend on that?”

Mycroft looked briefly caught, but then he smiled. “An hour or two.” 

“Well considering that was you, that was a good long time.” John had one more deduction to make, though. “But now… you don’t have a script for this, do you?”

“Not as such, no.” Mycroft reached for John’s belt loops, tugging him closer. “You’ve been spending too much time with my brother.” 

“And you’d rather I spend time with you?” He dipped his head, pressing his lips to Mycroft’s. 

Mycroft smiled. “Well, it’s been reasonably pleasant so far.”

John growled playfully. “I’ll show you _pleasant_.” He muttered, kissing Mycroft again, more forcefully this time. 

Mycroft actually laughed at that. “I rather hoped you would.”

John sat back on his heels, looking Mycroft in the eye. “Have you done this, before?”

Mycroft met his gaze evenly, but his voice was uncertain when he said, “No.” 

John licked his lips nervously. “Why me? Why now?”

“I find you attractive, and you clearly return my interest. Does it really need to be so complicated?” 

“Guess not.” John murmured, half to himself. “All right then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wew! Smut tomorrow. Or on Monday, more likely.


	8. Coupling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John makes Mycroft come. Basically.

John didn’t dwell on the daunting thought of being Mycroft’s first time. It shouldn’t matter, anyway. It didn’t change his goal- to do everything he could to make Mycroft feel amazing. 

He stripped off his jumper first as his body heated up, flushed with arousal. He tossed it carelessly behind him, meeting Mycroft’s eyes and feeling a pleasant thrill at the way Mycroft’s gaze dragged over his arms and shoulders with clear appreciation. 

“You’re several layers behind.” He murmured, smoothing his palms down the smooth, satiny front of Mycroft’s waistcoat. 

“An oversight which must surely be corrected without delay.” Mycroft said as he began to unbutton his waistcoat, John eagerly helping by starting on the top buttons of Mycroft’s shirt.

Between the two of them, they were soon both down to their undershirts, and then topless entirely. Captivated by the freckles liberally covering Mycroft’s back and shoulders, John pressed Mycroft backwards into the bed, eagerly exploring with lips and tongue while his fingers stroked the downy fur of Mycroft’s chest. 

Mycroft squirmed beneath his touch, mouth falling open in a breathy exhale as John mouthed at his neck. He was achingly hard by now, and he reached down, unbuckling his trousers with fingers shaking with excitement as he rubbed at his cock through his pants, just trying to take the edge off. 

A firm hand settled on his wrist as John pressed an unexpectedly chaste kiss to his cheek. “Let me take care of that.”

A small crease appeared between Mycroft’s eyebrows. “The fact of my inexperience does not mean that I intend to be an inactive partner in our coupling, I-” He trailed off with a shaky moan as John’s lips closed around his nipple, soft wet tongue laving over the sensitive spot. 

“Just relax, Mycroft.” John said as he released Mycroft, letting him catch his breath. “Let me make this good for you.”

Mycroft nodded hesitantly. He was typically unused to giving up control. “All right.” He whispered. 

John grinned. “Now, let’s get you comfortable.” He eased off Mycroft’s trousers and pants, sliding them off the bed and onto the floor. Kneeling between Mycroft’s legs, John grinned at the sight before him. “Mycroft Holmes, all spread out for me. Christmas must have come early this year.”

Any snarky comments Mycroft may have had were washed away as John slid his hand up his thigh, cupping Mycroft’s full, heavy balls, then curling around the base of his prick. Leaning in, John licked generously at the head, making Mycroft jolt and moan. 

John was no expert at giving blowjobs. It wasn’t like he’d ever had much practice, and he’d never really been able to get all the way down. Still, what he lacked in technical skill, he more than made up for in enthusiasm. He licked and sucked eagerly, _greedily_ at Mycroft’s cock, until he was fisting the sheets and moaning with abandon, hips twisting as he wordlessly begged to come. Closing his mouth tight around the head, he pumped his fist over Mycroft’s spit-slicked cock, until with a ragged cry, he spilled into John’s waiting mouth, sobbing with pleasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wew! Bit of a hiccup in the beginning, didn't really know how to get the party started. But after that this chapter pretty much wrote itself.


	9. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft returns the favour, and then he isn't sure if he should leave.

“You don’t know that I’m clean.” Were the first breathless words out of Mycroft’s mouth.

John laughed, rising up on his knees and shuffling forwards so he could bend down to kiss Mycroft. Mycroft kissed back languidly, post-orgasmic lassitude making him light and loose. 

“I’m sure you did thorough checkups before you turned up to proposition me. If there was anything I needed to know about your health status- or mine, for that matter- you would have let me know.” John didn’t mention about Mycroft having been a virgin. He didn’t want to embarrass him, and besides, they both knew that there were other ways to contract infections.

Mycroft’s only acknowledgement of that was a smug little smile as he stroked his hands mostly aimlessly over John’s body. Giving John’s arse a firm squeeze, he pushed his hips firmly down on the bed. “I think it’s time I returned the favour, don’t you?”

The little bit of manhandling from Mycroft knocked the breath out of John, his already hard cock giving a throb that John felt all the way down his spine. “You- uh, you don’t have to.” He said, trying not to sound as eager as he felt.

“And yet.” Was all Mycroft said, dipping his head to lick John’s cock from base to tip, wrapping his lips around the head and massaging the spongy tip with his tongue, probing and teasing at the sensitive slit.

John threw his forearm over his eyes, moaning. “Oh, God, I’m not going to last. Fuck, that’s perfect.” 

Every technique John had used with Mycroft was replicated with devastating accuracy, his clever tongue pleasuring every sensitive spot until John was whimpering into his fist, making tiny, abortive thrusts into Mycroft’s mouth. 

As John reached his peak, Mycroft let his hands take over, lifting his head to stare intensely at John, mouth open and panting, looking every bit as desperate for John’s orgasm as John felt as he worked his first over John’s cock. Caught by that unrelenting gaze, John looked back, struggling to breathe and keep his eyes open at the same time as he came in powerful spurts, spattering Mycroft from his chest to his chin. 

For a moment they just breathed together, gaze still locked on each other. John was the first to break, tipping his head back against the pillow with a groan. “Fuck, that was amazing. You’re incredible.” 

Mycroft rolled onto his back, too lazy to shimmy back up the bed. “Yes, that was rather satisfying.” He squeezed John’s knee. “Thank you.” 

John giggled. “Think nothing of it.” Mycroft’s head was just by his hand, and he stroked his fingers through his thin hair, poking playfully at his bald spot. Mycroft batted him away half-heartedly, making John chuckle. “Sorry. You know, you’re going to want to clean yourself up before that starts drying.”

Mycroft sat up. “Yes, of course.” He murmured. “The bathroom is downstairs, yes? I’ll let myself out once I’m done, don’t worry about getting up.” 

John sat up, frowning. Was that it? Just thank him and leave? He’d thought there was going to be more than that. Maybe that had always been an empty fantasy, though. What would Mycroft want with him on a long-term basis? 

Something made him look closer, though. Something in the way Mycroft wouldn’t meet his eyes gave him hope. If this was a casual rejection, John had no doubt Mycroft would be brutally honest about it. He took a leap.

“Mycroft.” He said, waiting for him to look up from where he was buttoning up his trousers. “Stay? Come back when you’re done in the bath. We can have a bit of a lie-in, get dinner later?”

Mycroft looked a little startled, then smiled, flushing with pleasure. “I’d like that.” 

John beamed. “Great.” He tugged Mycroft in for a kiss, then released him, watching him retreat down the stairs. It had been a while since he’d been with someone he genuinely liked. He had a good feeling about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end! I know, there could be more. But this was the scope that I'd planned for this fic. I'll leave the rest to your imagination :)


End file.
